The Mole
by Krakatau
Summary: The Agents of Project Freelancer are busy working against the Insurrection, but what if one of their own had conflicting motives?
1. The Proposal

It was late.

The small gym echoed with the sounds of one woman aggressively attacking the punching bag. Her movements, although far above average, weren't as streamlined or fluid as they could be.

She worked intensely on making them so.

To her, it felt like she'd never make any progress; that she had merely plateaued to the extent of what she was physically able to do, but she continued to push herself, every day, just one more hit, one more punch. Perseverance had to count for something, right?

Her breaths of exertions, dry-throated grunts as she hurled her leg against the training aide, filled her ears and drown out the sounds of the door opening and the subsequent footsteps as someone else entered the room. They stopped, and still she didn't notice.

As in any of her sessions with the punching bag, she was pretending it was someone, something she wanted very much to beat into a bloody pulp, and the longer she went, the more real it seemed to become to her, until she was attacking it with a primal fury. She yelled as she meted out the final blow, completely exhausting her energy. She stood, tense and slightly shaking, breathing heavily, as the punching bag wobbled and swayed in the aftermath.

Behind her, the lone spectator started a slow applause. She jumped, hardly enough breath to gasp, and pivoted sharply to immediately set a fighting stance – only to drop it a moment later and shift her weight to one foot, looking at the intruder with combined wariness and awe.

"You've got quite a left hook, there."

"I've been working on it."

He nodded. "I heard this was a good place to find you, I'm glad I was not disappointed."

"Well, you know, just trying to make my right hook as good as my left." She chuckled, but it was tight. As much as she admired and respected and would follow this man to the ends of the universe, he scared the ever loving piss out of her. She stood her ground as he took a few steps towards her, and started a slow circle around her. She shifted her weight and tilted her head at him, but didn't turn and interrupt his inspection.

"I would like to make a proposition. I hear you've been wanting to come into our circle for a while now … ?"

She froze. She'd been making inroads, passing her name around to those who knew people, but she never would have imagined it would ever catch _his_ attention for anything specific. She'd been happy just to be in his extended employ, but to be _sought out_ like this ..."

"Yes. Absolutely."

"I may have something for you, but I need to know I can _trust_ you."

She nodded immediately, choking her words back if just not to seem too overeager. "You can trust me implicitly."

"We'll find that out." He turned and took a seat on bench and regarded her carefully. She didn't dare move. "Are you familiar with _Project Freelancer?_"

"... Freelancer? Yes, I've … heard rumors of it, but – "

"My people have been tracking their movements, as much as they can. They're coming a little close to some of my more … _delicate_ operations. I need someone on the inside to let us know just _how_ close."

"I'll do whatever you need me to."

"Good girl! I knew I could count on you." He pushes off and approaches the punching bag to give it a couple light taps with his fist. "Continue as if we never spoke; I'll be sending you in as a recruit."

She couldn't help it, she snapped her head at him, eyes widening. "A recruit, sir?"

He nodded. "I've seen you in action; you've proven yourself capable."

"The rumors I've heard -"

"Are now going to include you. I'll send word when we're ready for you."

He turned and walked out, leaving her to stand and watch, confused and a little frightened. She'd thought he'd have her be one of the soldiers, or background technicians or something, but … _an agent?_ Did he think she was that good?

She snatched up a water bottle and gulped down a couple swallows while she thought for a moment. The rumors she'd heard surrounding Project Freelancer usually centered on how strict and dangerous a program it was. She'd heard one of those stories from someone's sister's room-mate's cousin from Utah getting into the program and never coming out. Then again, there were the _other_ rumors, on how they were nearly unbeatable. Like living heroes, almost.

He thought _she_ was capable enough to be one?

She snapped the cap down on her bottle, tossed it aside, and then reset her stance in front of the punching bag.

She wasn't about to let him down.


	2. Chapter One

It had been a rather … trying time getting into Project Freelancer. Her employers had their insiders and backdoor methods of boosting her up the potential recruit roster, but the actual _getting picked as an agent for Project Freelancer_ was a lot more difficult then showing up at a recruiting office and submitting a pee test.

In short, she'd had to train and work harder for this than anything else she'd ever done in her life. She was going up against the brightest and strongest of the UNSC, those who wanted something a little more specialized than the faceless soldiers sent out to die against the Covenant or the various Insurrection cells.

The latter of which had kept _her_ relatively safe, given how deep in it she had been.

Here, she felt out of her world. She'd made good and gotten into the program through blood and sweat, but now she realized just how precarious her situation was. She looked across the Pelican's blood pan to the one other recruit who'd made it in with her this round. He was good; determined and thorough, but _god_ could get get any more green? Not _sick_ green, but fresh-out-of-boot-camp green.

"So what state did they saddle you with?"

He'd been sitting nearly at attention, even though it was just the two of them back here, but he still somehow managed to straighten up at her question.

"Washington. You?"

"Connecticut. Any idea how they decide who gets what state?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue."

"Count yourself lucky. No one's going to have any problems spelling _your_ name."

"Well … they _could_ always just call you 'Connie'."

She chuckled and gave him a smirk. "I guess they could."

"Have you heard anything about this 'armor processing' they're going to be putting us through?"

"Not any more than you. Why?"

He shrugged. "It just sounded a little … _technical_, to me. I mean, there's the ODST's SPI and the … well," He leaned forward as much as he could in his harness, and she couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at him. "_The 'MJOLNIR' project_ ..."

She scoffed. "You think they're putting us in MJOLNIR?"

He sat back and shrugged. "Could be."

"Yeah right. If the rumors about _that_ are true, that'd be the cost of a battlecruiser right there. Do you think _you're_ worth the cost of a battlecruiser?"

He just looked at her blankly for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Okay, you've got a point."

"We're good … we're not _that_ good."

He shrugged. "Maybe we will be. Maybe that's the point of all this."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the ship shuddered as it started to pull into the docking bay of the frigate _Mother of Invention_, and the pilot's voice piped in overhead, snarky;

"If you two are done speculating, we're here. The great MJOLNIR mystery is about to be solved."

They were released from their harnesses, and stood shoulder to shoulder while they waited for the hatch to open. Washington remained ever-attentive, back straight, chest out, expression set on something Connecticut assumed was supposed to be sober, but ended up just looking a tad constipated. She tried to wiggle herself into a similar stance, although it certainly wasn't as rigid, and the two of them were like polar opposites to the man that greeted them. He was wearing a simple gray uniform, his face obscured by a reflective visor. At just the sight of them, he made a nondescript little _Mmm_ noise and scribbled something down on the clipboard he carried.

Connecticut cast a furtive glance at Washington. _Oh fuck ..._ Had she screwed up already because she didn't know how to stand? She made a further attempt to mimic his rod-up-ass stance.

"Agents Connecticut and Washington. Welcome to the _Mother of Invention_ and Project Freelancer. I'll be your Counsellor for the duration of your assignment with us. If you'll follow me, we can get you suited up and into training."

"Sir, won't we be given a short respite?"

Connecticut rolled her eyes at Washington as they followed behind the Counsellor. She looked around her, watching the technicians and soldiers hurry about on one task or another. So far, she didn't see any of what she imagined these other _agents_ to be.

"It is a test to see how you perform in unexpected and less than ideal conditions."

"... oh." Washington seemed to settle into resigned compliance, but she could hear the confusion and disappointment in his tone.

"What, you thought they'd set us up with surprise cake and ice cream?"

Washington stammered, and she could tell he was embarrassed that she'd spoken so frankly in front of the Counsellor. She took a little pride at having unnerved him.

"No, I just – I don't know, usually you get a chance to drop your duffel, or, something … before the actual training starts."

"Somehow I _doubt_ this is 'just the usual'." She was still glancing around as she talked, taking everything in. The Counsellor wasn't responding to their little repartee, but then again, he _was_ making a few notes now and again on his clipboard.

Then, just before they entered the corridor marked _Armor Processing_, she saw him; taller and broader than any of the other soldiers, white armor with a hint of orange, and a large, curving helmet that _gleamed_ gold. She couldn't see his face behind the visor, but she shivered nonetheless; she could tell he was looking straight at them.

She hurried behind Washington and the Counselor into the hallway proper, eager to get out of the agent's glare. _What have I gotten myself into ..._


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Connecticut staggered into the locker rooms and immediately leaned back against them, armor clunking with a sharp ringing _clang_ of metal on metal.

Their first 'training' session had been a series of basic speed and strength tests, no doubt to get them used to the armor in a hurry. She wasn't entirely certain she'd gotten the knack of hers yet, although during the simulated ammo portion of the experience she had to admit - it was nice to have a couple thick layers between her and the bullets.

She pulled her helmet off and reached up to push her hair back. She'd have to find something to do with it, considering there would be no easy way to push it out of her sight in the middle of a firefight.

A moment later, Washington pushed his way through the door into the locker room. It was hard to tell with him in all that bulky armor, but if she had to guess, she would have said he was a bit tired, too. How long had it been? Hours? At least three … There was a clock in her HUD, but she hadn't paid attention to the starting time.

"How'd you do out there?" She asked him, pushing off from the lockers in an attempt to appear less tired than she actually was. Oh lord, please don't let her legs give out now.

""I'm still standing, I'm calling it a success." He made a little wave with his arm to emphasize, then started walking around and looking at the lockers. These new armor systems were too complicated to just be tucked away in lockers; they'd have to go back to processing and have the technicians remove the plating piece by piece.

In other words, once you had the armor on, you were staying in it for a long time. Their orders now were to wait in the locker rooms for further orders. Connecticut wondered if this was just some way of actually letting them relax, or of their 'orders' were Dependant on some other news that hadn't arrived yet.

The door banged open, causing Connecticut to jump, and she and Washington turned to the newcomers as two others joined them.

A man and a woman, and they were both exceedingly good looking. Connecticut couldn't help but stare a moment before glancing away. The woman stopped by at a locker to pop it open and start disrobing, most likely on her way to armor processing to get decked out in full kit. She looked over at them shamelessly as she undid her pants, and gave a malicious little chuckle.

"Huh. I didn't know the armor came in shades of ishit/i."

"You're one to talk, South; we look like Easter Eggs when we're all done up. New recruits, yeah? I'm Agent North Dakota, the charmer over here is my sister South." He put his hand out and immediately Washington moved to shake it. Connecticut straightened her back and held her hand out to South, who rolled her eyes and ignored her.

"Agent Washington, and this is Connecticut."

"No relation." Connecticut felt urged to add as she turned her attention to North, who had finished shaking Washington's had and was leaning towards her to do the same. She made sure her grip was firm and confident, even if she was feeling more and more out of her element.

The continued little glances from South certainly didn't help.

"You two just get out of armor training?" North wandered over to his locker and started to tug his shirt off. Connecticut glanced over to see South in her underwear, pulling on the black undersuit. Washington, in full armor, was very obviously staring at South.

Connecticut jabbed a sharp elbow backwards into his gut, miscalculating with the armor and the undersuiting. There was just enough of a dull impact in the unarmored space on her elbow that sent threads of pain along her arm. She swallowed back any indication that that might have hurt, pausing just fraction of a moment to collect herself as Washington took a step back and looked at her, a little embarrased. South was glaring at him and it was scary.

"Yup. All primed and ready to go." Except ignoring everything. She was fucking exhausted and just wanted to lie down, but she had to make a good impression, she had to wedge herself in here like a goddamn _tick_. Then, once she got a moment, she'd have to find a hackable terminal hub and send a 'hello' contact to her link on the outside. _That_ wasn't going to be easy. Sleep would have to wait until the unforseeable future.

North nodded as he pulled his pants off, folded them crisply and tucked them under his shirt in a nice stack in the locker, before pulling out his own undersuit and sliding into it. On the other side of them, South finished, slammed her locker shut, and stalked out without another word.

"Good to hear it. You'll have to go through the basic training courses and psychological evaluations, first, but we could certainly use your help out there." He nodded in an indiscriminate direction; the whole galaxy was in trouble at the moment, any direction was sure to have something exciting going on.

"What can we expect from these training courses?"

North chuckled and shook his head. "I can't tell you that, it'd ruin the surprise." He flashed them both a smile and gave a wave that was somewhat of a half-salute. Washington saluted back. "See you on the flipside, kids."

"He was nice." Washington said as North disappeared around the corner.

Connecticut gave a little scoff and pulled her helmet back on. "I'm not a _kid._"


End file.
